


I Cast My Spell of Love on You (a Woman From a Child)

by baldoldman



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Minor Angst, age gap, do their names make sense, im not good at elf culture, totally made up so many characters, who knows - Freeform, yeah he met her when she was a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-02 00:33:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5227052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baldoldman/pseuds/baldoldman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil has always been wrapped around Luthien's fingers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Cast My Spell of Love on You (a Woman From a Child)

Luthién's young father, Thennil, was captain of the guard and a close friend of Thranduil's and so she had spent much of her childhood with the royalty of Mirkwood. Luthién had always been enraptured by Thranduil, and so had Thranduil been enraptured by Luthien.

The first time she saw him was before he was even King, but he was nearly a man still while she was only a young elf, a toddler by human standards. Her father was only a few years older than Thranduil, and even then he was considered a young father. That didn't matter to Thennil, there was nothing he would do differently, especially now that he had Luthién.

She was taken aback by Thranduil, as toddlers are whenever they stumble upon something new. After the initial shock, she teetered right up to him, tugging on his robe in a rare request to be picked up.

Thranduil was already very reserved, and this attention, especially from someone he'd assumed would be frightened, was strange to him. Thennil laughed. 

"She wants you to hold her, melon," he says softly. It wasn't often Luthién wanted to be held by anyone-she was strangely independent.

Thranduil stooped and scooped her up with grace as always. She frowned as she watched his face, and he watched her, ready to pass her off when she would surely start crying.

But then she starts grinning.

This surprises Thranduil even more, and he jerks away when she reaches out for his face.

She giggles but isn't phased, petting his hair with more softness than clumsy chubby toddler hands (even elf toddler hands) usually have.

Thennil laughs and Thranduil shoots him a look, offended immediately.

"Isn't she brilliant?" Thennil gushes, just about ready to snatch his beloved daughter back.

"She's strange." Thranduil agrees.

Thennil strides to stand beside Thranduil, watching Luthién in adoration as she watches Thranduil with amusement, as Thranduil watches her with wonder.

"She has freckles," Thranduil notes, raising a hand to touch the smattering across her cheeks and nose.

She giggles, mimicking him and poking his cheek.

"Well, you know her mother's father is of man." Thennil explains hesitantly. It's not a comfortable subject for anyone. "That's why her hair is curly as well."

"Oh yes. I'm surprised so much of man has shown up in her." Thranduil nods.

"Do you think it is a bad thing? Do you think she will get looks because of it?" Thennil asks, suddenly concerned. If people can tell from a distance that Luthién is partly of man then it could make life very difficult for her.

"Well, I doubt anyone could miss her hair but any looks she get will be only of awe." Thranduil grins as she pets his eyebrow.

Thennil grins too, seeing Thranduil's face and convinced his daughter will forever be amazing, seeing as she has already bewitched the stoniest person he knew.

In fact, by the time Thennil is ready to actually reclaim his daughter, Thranduil gives her up slowly, putting it off as much as he can.

And when he finally does, Luthién looks about ready to cry as she calls for the future King (really she just shouts 'no' as she doesn't know many words yet) who smiles and waves at her until she's out of sight.

\-----

When Thranduil becomes King, Luthién is 17 by human standards. She is tall, slim and muscled but she does not look a woman yet but any standards.

At the feast following his coronation, Luthién can't contain her excitement. After holding it in as long as possible, she finally bursts.

"Thranduil!" She exclaims, launching herself into his arms.

He smiles, hugging her fiercely, crushing her as he knows that's how she likes to be embraced.

"Little Luthién, I haven't had the pleasure of your company in too long," he sets her to her feet.

"Well I am not surprised, you are a King of Kingly duties now," she grins.

"Yes but I shall always make time for you, Aier(1)," he teases.

She scoffs. "Excuse me, my King, but I am almost of a height with you."

"You are so eager to outgrow me?" He asks with a smile. "I wouldn't be able to lift you above my head anymore,"

"As if you could do that now," she rolls her eyes.

"Is that a challenge, silly girl?" He grins.

"It most certainly is not-!" Luthién is cut off by her own squeal as Thranduil grabs her waist and has her above his head indeed.

She grabs his shoulders, muttering curses as the new King laughs.

"You blasted King! I should like nothing more than to grow large enough to throw you over my shoulder!" She giggles as he sets her down.

"I fear then, that you intend to put an end to any respect I have in this kingdom," he chuckles lightly.

"I'm sure I can manage that without growing any bigger." Luthién smirks.

"Oh, you have grown very deviant. I remember those simple days when you were small and the only pain you caused me was by demanding I carry you whenever you laid eyes on me." Thranduil muses, a smile on his lips.

"And I demand that still sometimes, don't I?"

Thranduil laughs, as one of Thranduil's guards approaches, a blushing smile on his face.

"Excuse me, my King, I was wondering of I could ask my lady for a dance?" He inquires bash fully.

"I-" Thranduil begins, but Luthién interrupts.

"I know speaking to a King is intimidating, Harnor, but you also know me so you know you ought to ask me if I would like to dance?" She grins, giggling at Harnor's dazed face.

"I'm sorry, my lady," Harnor suppresses a smile, accustomed to Luthién's teasing.

"Don't call me 'my lady' either, I am not one," Luthién rolls her eyes.

"What would you have me call you, then?" Harnor teases, reaching for her hand and stepping closer.

"I would have you call me...oh," she trails off, blushing as she realizes Thranduil is still there, watching the lovers, confused, angered, and a little grossed out.

"I'm sorry, my King," Harnor bows slightly, stepping away from Luthién.

"You have nothing to apologize for." Thranduil shakes his head, but discretely grits his teeth. "Although you should be glad it was only me here and not Thennil,"

He leans down and kisses Luthién over the freckles on her cheek, nodding to Harnor, and floating away from them, as Harnor ducks his head to kiss Luthién on both cheeks.

Thranduil flicks his eyes away just in time to convince himself he doesn't see it.

\-----

When Legolas is born, Luthién is 22 by human standards. She is also very proud of the small breasts that have appeared on her chest.

She is scared of this baby. She meets it when it is a day old in the nursery with Thranduil and she refuses to hold it.

Thranduil laughs at her.

"Come on, lirimaer(2), you will not harm him." He promises, carrying his golden son around to her.

"Don't come at me with that baby, Thranduil." She scurries away.

"Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa(3), yet you will not hold my son?"

"He is beautiful, you are an idiot if you think he would be safe in my hands." She shakes her head harshly.

"I will put him in your arms, and you in my arms," he says.

She is pressed against the wall and has nowhere to run as Thranduil slides his baby deftly into her trembling hands.

"You are such a silly girl," he murmurs, standing close beside Luthién, his arms wrapped around hers.

She still shakes, though, face contorted with worry as she supports the soft neck of the new prince.

"Isn't he beautiful?" Thranduil says.

"Yes, please take him back," Luthién turns into Thranduil's chest, pushing Legolas into his arms.

"You are ridiculous," Thranduil laughs.

Luthién nods, smiling thinly, eyes looking glassy.

"Luthién?" He asks softly, suddenly sobered by her panicked state. "What's wrong?"

"I'm just a little...out of sorts," she shrugs.

"You seem upset," he returns Legolas to his cradle, edging back to Luthién warily.

"I am not upset," she lies, shaking her head resolutely.

"Poikaer(4), are you ill?" Thranduil rushes over to her, a hand on her forehead and one on her jaw.

Luthién shakes her head, won't reply.

"Please tell me what is wrong, you are worrying me," he professes, searching her eyes and mouth for a response.

"I am not a pure one any more," she mumbles.

"What do you mean?" His hand pushes back her hair, holding her neck, palms cupping her jaw.

"I laid with Harnor," she confesses, hands coming up to grip his wrists.

"That is why you are upset?" Thranduil seems to be in disbelief, then his face hardens. "Did he hurt you?" He growls.

"No, voronwer(5)."

"Then...why are you sad? Your purity does not come from between your legs," Thranduil insists, though his stomach burns with fire at Harnor.

"I did not bleed for four moons." She says, looking down at her feet as her eyelashes brush over her cheeks.

"You are...with child?" Thranduil's face becomes nearly unreadable.

"I was," she breathes.

"A'maelamin, amin hiraetha(6)." Thranduil brings her into a tight embrace as she begins to shudder.

"I am not," she whispers into his shoulder. "I am not sorry. I didn't want a child and it was lost because I wished it away, but I am not sorry,"

Thranduil stills, confused at her words, but then he shakes his head.

"You needn't be."

When he feels her shivering with tears his own eyes fill up.

Luthién won't look him in the eye even when he pulls out of the embrace and tilts her chin up.

"You put my heart in my throat when you cry, lirimaer(2)," he murmurs.

"I fear I may never stop." She breathes. "I am a feuyaer(7), to wish away a child like I did,"

"It was not yet a child," he says.

"I am-"

"You are beautiful," Thranduil interrupts. "And not at fault."

Luthién nods weakly, still crying silently.

Thranduil leans over to kiss the tears off of her freckles.

Luthién stills. It's not an unusual gesture from Thranduil, but it is unusually tender.

"I wish I could keep you from feeling any pain ever again," he professes against her cheek.

Luthién laughs and Thranduil is immediately grinning before he can stop himself.

"If your laugh was the only noise that could reach my ears for the rest of my life I would die happy,"

"You're the stupidest King that's ever lived," she replies, and Thranduil is happy to see her restoring herself, even if it involves insulting him.

\-----

When Luthién is 24 by human standards, Harnor asks for her hand in marriage.

Thennil goes to Thranduil immediately, the only one he knows will share his feelings on the matter. His wife, Luthién's mother, had already insisted he give his blessing, and he wasn't having that.

"Mellon(8), you will not believe what has happened," Thennil announces as he enters the king's chambers.

Thranduil turns to him with an eyebrow cocked to urge him on.

"A boy wishes to marry Luthién." Thennil says.

Thranduil does not seem surprised, but his eyes are suddenly full of something angry.

"What boy?" He says quickly.

"Harnor, the one who follows her like he is lost." Thennil paces the room.

"And...will he marry her?" Thranduil asks, trying not to seem so obsessed.

Thennil pauses, pondering. "He is a good man, yes, but he is not good enough for her."

"No one is good enough for Luthién." Thranduil agrees.

"Well, I can't believe that or else I'll never be able to allow her to marry," Thennil replies, shaking his head. "But he is a daft one, isn't he?"

"He's never been a reliable guard." Thranduil insists, letting himself waver in honesty a bit as he is overwhelmed for hatred for Harnor.

"I wouldn't say that."

"I would. He is always late for his duty and has often been drunk on the job."

Thennil laughs at that. "Aye, as have I and as have you."

"Would you truly want your daughter to marry a man like either of us?" Thranduil asks lightly, but with true meaning behind it.

Thennil sighs. "For Luthién to marry a man like you would make me the happiest father," he gives the King an amiable smile.

Thranduil doesn't respond, suddenly distracted by how great that idea sounds.

Before Thranduil can reply, a loud call echoes down the hall into his study, followed by rushed footsteps.

"Father!" It's the familiar voice of the girl in question. "Father!"

Thennil turns to the door as Luthién enters.

She seems disheveled and panicky as she stops a foot inside the room. Letting out a huff of air to calm herself, she nods at Thranduil.

"Good. You're both here. Harnor wants to marry me." She says briskly.

"We have been informed." Thranduil nods gently.

"You mustn't let him. Do not give him permission." Shes watching Thranduil when she says this, but it's her father who replies.

"Why? You have had no problems with him before,"

"I know." She lies. "But I won't marry him."

"Has something happened? Has he hurt you?" Thennil asks, stepping closer.

"No. But he is not the one I will marry. He is not the one."

Thennil nods slowly. "Okay, Luthién, I will not-"

Thranduil interrupts with a cold laugh. "Luthién, you are a smart girl. You must realize that waiting for 'the one' is entirely pointless." 

Luthién gapes at Thranduil.

"Old friend, please do not-" Thennil begins, only to be interrupted again.

"She is acting like a child. If she wants a happy marriage and life then she must get her head out of the clouds."

Luthién narrows her eyes at Thranduil. "SHE is right here. And since when where you such an awful cynic!? You, who married his one and has a beautiful son? You should know better than anyone that true love exists-you've found it!"

Thranduil doesn't respond, rolling his eyes.

With a small defeated humph, Luthién turns to leave, before she does, she turns back to her father.

"If you don't tell Harnor he has no permission, then I will." She throws a poisonous glance at Thranduil and storms away. 

\-----

When Luthién is 27 by human standards, she is ready to leave.

With a knitted and leather backpack strung over a pair of breeches and a thick protective vest and a long bow at the ready, she excuses herself through the front doors and walks and walks without looking back.

It's a day later, as she readies for a night of rest, when Thranduil finds her.

"Luthién." He says as he dismounts his elk. The relief in his voice is mustered by the anger.

Luthién rests by her fire, removing her minimal armor, clothed only in her leather pants and a thin cropped long sleeve.

"Thranduil? What are you doing here?" She asks, standing.

"How stupid have you grown? I'm taking you back," he wraps a hand around her waist, pulling her along.

"I'm not coming back with you," she spits, stung by his comment.

"I am your King, you will not disobey me,"

She rips herself out of his grip, face contorting with anger.

"What happened to you? You used to be kind! You used to kiss my tears away! Now you cause them!" Luthién shouts.

Thranduil feels a pang in his chest at her words, yet his anger grows. "If I have changed its because you have made me! You grow insolent and selfish and naive! If I don't show you the cruelty of the world you will not survive it!"

"I've survived enough," Luthién growls, stepping forward, "enough to know that you are the most wretched person to walk these lands!"

"I have suffered for you more than any person and you still treat me like evil! I abandoned a meeting with elves more powerful than you know to come search for you!" Thranduil closes the gap between them too.

"I didn't ask you to!" Luthién exclaims.

"You imbecile! I would ride to the ends of Middle Earth to find you! Don't you know this?" He growls.

"Why? If I am nothing but a brat who cause you only strife why bother?" Luthién spits.

"Because I-" he stops himself. "Because your father is my dearest friend,"

Luthién lets out a frustrated 'gah!' And shoves him hard on the chest. "Liar!" She screams as he stumbles back. "You speak with a forked tongue!" She pushes him again. "You are a snake!" Again, she shoves him hard. "You care nothing for my father because you cannot care! You cannot love!" She shoves him one last time, and his back hits a tree. "You could not understand love, you could not see love, even if it was standing right in front of you!"

Then, because he can contain himself no longer, Thranduil grabs Luthién by the shoulders, backing her into a tree not two feet away, and ducks his head to capture her lips.

Luthién's eyes blow wide open for one moment before she feels his tongue begging for entrance, so she grants it, reaching up to grab his shoulder with one hand and thread her hand through his hair with the other, eyes sliding shut.

Thranduil's large hands navigate the back of her neck and her wild hair, her soft freckled cheeks and the bare skin of her waist. He moans softly into her mouth when she claws into his back for more purchase.

They break apart after many long moments, breathing hard and eyes wild with lust.

"I have waited years for that," he admits.

Luthién can do nothing but nod slowly, a grin stretching across her features.

"Well, let's not wait years for another," she manages finally, before grabbing him and pressing their lips together again.

**Author's Note:**

> (1)Aier-Short one  
> (2)Lirimaer-Lovely one  
> (3)Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa-Your heart is that of the lion  
> (4)Poikaer-Pure one  
> (5)Voronwer-Loyal one  
> (6)A'maelamin-My beloved, Amin hiraetha-I'm sorry  
> (7)Feuyaer-Disgusting one  
> (8)Mellon-friend


End file.
